New York, July 1st, 2025
Ludovic Nkoth in conversation with Jérôme Sans
How would you describe or define your work?
Ludovic This body of work is a way of witnessing. My work has always been about the now, capturing how I process time and what it means to be a human who’s lived in many parts of the world, while also paying attention to the histories that have allowed me to be where I am and who I am today. My work is an accumulation of so much history and life experience.
How does your experience of migration from Cameroon to the United States shape the emotional and visual language of your work?
Ludovic The beauty of traveling has always been the opportunity to experience many different cultures. Each land is unique, and so are its people. Coming from Cameroon to the United States, I bring a particular lens with me. That perspective helps me better understand the nuances within the broader human experience. It’s one of the most meaningful things I carry with me, having lived in Cameroon and other places. It allows me to dive a bit deeper into the psychology of just the people in the moment.
Where were you exactly in Cameroon?
Ludovic I was in Yahoundé until I was 13.
You studied at the University of South Carolina and earned an MFA from Hunter College in New York. How has this academic background helped shape your artistic practice?
Ludovic What I enjoyed about the University of South Carolina Upstate was that it was such a small school, we didn’t really have a formal art program. I could take any class and was surrounded by people from all kinds of disciplines, which made me curious and exposed me to many different ways of thinking. I feel that this directly translates into my work. But when I moved to New York and started at Hunter College, it was the first time I was immersed in a more scholarly approach to art-making. It was also the first time my ideas were being challenged. That shift pushed me to think more deeply about why I do what I do, and why it matters.
Were there teachers who were important to you and who changed your life?
Ludovic Oh yes, there was one. Hunter is a three-year MFA program, and in my second year, I had a professor, an abstract painter based here in New York, named Colin Washington. He came to my studio for what was supposed to be a one-hour critique, but he only stayed for 30 minutes and completely tore everything apart. He said, “I don’t see you in your work.” He was basically saying that I had been too focused on fitting into a certain mold of what I thought an artist should be, rather than looking deeper into myself, into my history and background. After that studio visit, I stayed in the studio for about an hour, almost paralyzed, rethinking what had just happened. That meeting became a turning point in my practice, and I started being very much intentional into the process, but also the research and everything that went into the work.
On your website, there’s a quote from you that says: “My work attempts to regain the things that were taken away from my people—power, culture, the idea of self, and the idea of being Black and proud.” What does empowerment mean to you in visual terms? How do you translate that idea onto the canvas?
Ludovic I would say empowerment comes from simply seeing yourself. Whenever you walk into a space and see someone who looks like you or even speaks like you, you immediately begin to feel like you belong. That alone brings a sense of identity and power. My work, at its core, tries to balance these ideas of representation—placing people who look like me, or who come from where I come from, on the same level as everyone else. Because, as we know, history hasn’t always favored certain parts of the world, and so much has been taken from so many people. Through my work, I try to revisit some of those visual languages or motifs and insert a part of myself into them, to give power back to what’s long been denied or taken.
Your iconography seems to center around portraiture. Why portraiture? What does it mean to you to make portraits today?
Ludovic It comes back to the psychology of simply seeing yourself. If you think about imprinting in animals, the first person or face they see often becomes their leader in a way. And it’s similar for humans. We try to find faces in everything. Seeing yourself in my paintings can shape how you interpret those spaces and feel a sense of belonging. For me, using portraiture is a way to insert myself into the long history of painting, but it’s also a way to negotiate the things I wrestle with: as a painter, as a human, as a man, as a son, as an older brother, as a fiancé—as all the roles we carry as people. Portraiture helps me process these things.
Your portraits often convey both strengths and vulnerability.
Ludovic Yes, it is a balance. There is a strength in vulnerability, but that’s not always recognized, especially when it comes to men, particularly men from where I come from. From childhood, you’re told to be strong. You’re told not to cry. You’re told not to show anyone your wounds. We build this big wall whenever we’re hurt. But when you really think about it you need help. When you’re hurt, you need to be healed. I think vulnerability is the ability to let people in when you’re at your weakest. I’ve had to learn this because, again, I wasn’t raised that way, and I rarely saw men showing vulnerability growing up. Learning to be vulnerable and let people see I’m human—that’s the strength. This body of work examines a lot of that.
It leads us to your series of paintings titled Francophone/Anglophone, which reference both education—through depictions of children in school uniforms—and Cameroon’s history, shaped by its two official languages, French and English. Your work explores the experience of living between two worlds, two languages, and two cultures.
Ludovic As you know, Cameroon is a bilingual country. We have English and French, but English speakers make up only about 20% of the population, and they’re not always favored by the political powers. Between around 2014 and 2019, there was a conflict in the Anglophone region—what is sometimes referred to as “Amazonia”. This part of the country wanted autonomy, since it wasn’t being politically supported. The government responded with military violence against English-speaking communities. This work was both a critique and a question: if my country is bilingual, why must I pick a side to survive? It also speaks to the corruption that has long existed in the country, especially in education and related areas. There aren’t enough resources being invested in education, and as we know, education builds the future. That’s why many of the figures in the Francophone/Anglophone series are shown wearing school uniforms: to stress that tomorrow is the children. The blue uniform is worn in schools across Cameroon and parts of West Africa.
Your paintings often capture moments of connection, tenderness, shared joy, and communal presence as well. Are those moments drawn from personal memory, observation, or imagined futures?
Ludovic As the world burns, the job of an artist is to put more beauty into the world to combat the atrocities that we’re going through. That’s why I try to capture these moments of joy, of peace and community. The most political or radical thing an artist can do is go against the grain. So, whenever there’s war, paint flowers. Put beauty into the world. Make people smile. Make people hope for better things.
Read the full interview on Muse September Issue 66.
